It is often said that the so-called Western world lacks ritual, in the way that is still cherished in the East. On one level this is true, and yet ritualisation happens all the time, whether we call it that or not. When I serve my perfected favourite dish to my friends, it is a sort of ritual. When I do this, I am saying something that is more than just the collection of food on the plate. Rituals help to make everyday reality more symbolic.
Ritual adds a sense of meaningfulness to sometimes mundane tasks. I remember a Japanese tea ceremony teacher spending three hours teaching me how to fold a square piece of silk fabric in order to symbolically clean the already clean tea utensils. It’s an act of showing the guests that this is meaningful and that I care about their experience. That for the sake of honouring my guests, I will spend my time on something others might hastily pass by.
A ritual has three components. First, a set of actions. Secondly, a set of limits. Thirdly, repetition. A ritual can be seen as a repetitive exploration of what is possible when specific actions occur within a framework of limitations. It’s a learning process. A ceremony has broader implications, as it includes a clear purpose, often connected to a cultural or esoteric context.
Ritualistic actions are usually handed down through tradition and inheritance and must be learned through practice and self discipline before performing the ritual itself.
Once the performed actions have been mastered then one can utilise the wiggle room of improvisation. Yet this is no free-for-all; even the improvisation is bounded by a set of limitations. The repetition of action allows for perfection but also to question the actions and limitations themselves, which in turn ultimately redefines the ritual itself. It is the concept of Shu-Ha-Ri that you might already have encountered several times in these pages. To follow, to rebel and to master. Or, as mused by a Japanese older woman who I served me tea in Osaka many years ago.
“No matter how serious they may appear, all ceremonies are simply elegant improvisations. Some gestures and conversations are just so perfect that reinventing them would be foolish. Now be that fool.”
Rituals can also be seen as a form of foreplay. Like two lovers sensually washing each other before sex, symbolically cleaning away the dirt and distress of everyday life. They may later realise that this foreplay was more meaningful to them than the final destination.
Rituals are the focal points of social interaction, as they are something to share and gather around together. My social status might even be partially defined by the rituals I am invited to participate in. Sometimes I think this is the ultimate luxury, to perfect a complicated and niche task which others find meaningful. Spending time with a master is among the best ways to absorb the ritual into one’s own being. What begins as a seemingly strict set of rules slowly emerges to be a gradual transference of habits and ways of being. Yet another tea teacher said:
“Serving tea is like smiling: you can try it by forcing your face into specific muscular postures, but a genuine smile arises naturally as a byproduct of the pleasure of service.”
On a deeper level, rituals act as an inherited compass with which to sail into the subconscious; it’s a wild ocean, vast and dream-like. The perceived reality is a reflection of this internal ocean. Likewise, my world too is a reflection of myself. The subconscious is the collection of all my experiences and all the experiences inherited from the generations before me. Some would say it’s encoded in my DNA; others would say ingrained in my culture. It’s all my dreamt dreams. All the observations I had but which are now forgotten. All the desires that tickled my curiosity. And so on and so on. The rational thinking mind has limited ways to access the subconscious because it’s problem-solving and goal-oriented. In contrast, the subconscious expresses itself through intuition, emotions and dreams. The older I get the less I value teaching my mind things because it forgets, but what is ingrained in my body’s subconscious stays forever. Being in ritual, or maybe being ‘with’ ritual, slowly brings form to the wild formless ocean. Therefore, rituals change everything. Or at least how I perceive the world.
